


and draw her home

by superfluouskeys



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F, POV First Person, Sexual Tension, post-omega dlc, that kiss fucked me up man, that whole dlc fucked me up man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-06 12:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11600676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superfluouskeys/pseuds/superfluouskeys
Summary: "You're not an easy person to pin down, Shepard," says Aria.  "Losing Omega turned out to be a happy accident in that way--I know you'd never turn away from a dangerous challenge if you could help it--but one does wonder..." she turns her gaze to me at last, dark and piercing.  "Is danger the only thing that can capture you?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the Omega dlc was some good shit man. I was just sitting at my computer staring at the Normandy like...no one is gonna have anything to say about this and my whOLE WORLD IS SHAKEN.
> 
> I think what I want to do is keep this short, and then make a couple more short pieces to add to it, so tentatively two more parts to come! I also...am really enjoying writing first person Shepard for some reason.

It's strange how war affects how you perceive the passage of time.  Missions that consume you, mind and body, maybe soul, if you're into that crap, can last hours, even minutes, and then they're over, and you're back on your ship, and no one who wasn't there can see how your very essence has been somehow...disturbed.

This is my lot after I help Aria retake Omega.  I wasn't away long.  Half a solar day, maybe, whatever that matters out in the middle of nowhere.  Aria asked me to come alone, so I did, and left everyone else to work on their own projects.  Now no one has anything new to say because no one knows what I've seen.

Dealing with asari is like that, though, I'm starting to think.  The ability to meld minds, to create spaces beyond the physical world, extends to their personal interactions.  It wasn't the same with Liara or Samara, by any stretch of the imagination, but there is one common thread.  With both of them, all of them, I often leave interactions feeling like I've been somewhere far away from the rest of the world, and disoriented when no one else seems to understand my state of mind.

 I find myself drawn to the starboard observation deck where Samara used to sit meditating for hours on end.  I guess it's sort of unnecessary to dwell too much on any of this.  I've seen enough shit by now not to find the course of events particularly unusual.  I've seen a lot of people die in fucked up ways, and a fair amount of people have grabbed me and kissed me in the heat of the moment.  I understand the impulse, even, in a distant sort of way.

You love someone, just a little bit, just for a second, in moments of peril, because...I don't know, maybe you just want to believe you know how before it's all over.

I think I sit there for a long time before someone finds me.  I remember I thought it was a batshit crazy thing Samara said, that gazing out into an empty void could be soothing, but now I sort of understand.  Nothingness is a welcome relief from...everything.

It's like a blow from a shockwave when I see Aria on the Citadel again.  Maybe a solar week has passed, if such things matter, and I never thought she'd release her foothold in Omega once she'd nearly torn it apart to get it back.

"It seems the galaxy can't keep us apart, Shepard," she says, without looking up.

"And here I thought I'd have to drag my ass back to Omega if I ever wanted to chat," I reply.

This elicits the ghost of a smile, and she gestures to a spot next to her on the couch.  "There are loose ends to tie up here," she says dismissively.  "And maybe I hoped our paths would cross again in the meantime."

"Why, Aria, I'm touched," I say, with a hand to my heart and the sarcasm she expects to mask the truth of the words.

Aria's lip curls, but there's little malice in it.  "You were a surprisingly agreeable partner, Shepard," she continues, but still hasn't turned her head.  "I don't normally play well with others."

"Colour me surprised," I retort without thinking.

The tiny half-smile makes a reappearance.  "I'd always hoped your cockiness was more than mere bluster."

I almost laugh, and hazard a slight turn of my head.  "Same to you."

"I wonder," says Aria after a moment's pause, "would you ever have dragged your ass back to Omega just to chat?"

I reaffix my gaze onto some random spot in the room.  People are dancing above us, creating patterns and connections that draw the eye.  The truth, which I'm sure Aria already knows, is that I probably never would have made it back to Omega.  Things are bad out there.  Getting worse by the day, it seems sometimes.  I'd have eventually found a way to shake the whole encounter and move forward, because that's what I do, usually because I don't have a choice.  You have to keep moving forward.  What's the use in looking back?

But what I say, because I'm not sure I like the truth all that much, is, "Not impossible."

"But unlikely," Aria counters easily.

I hesitate, but only for a bizarrely hopeful instant.  "Yeah."

Aria nods slowly.  "You're not an easy person to pin down, Shepard," she says.  "Losing Omega turned out to be a happy accident in that way--I know you'd never turn away from a dangerous challenge if you could help it--but one does wonder..." she turns her gaze to me at last, dark and piercing.  "Is danger the only thing that can capture you?"

There's that feeling I've been wrestling with again--the feeling of being somewhere so far removed from my immediate surroundings that I'm disoriented, thrown almost entirely off my guard, and I almost make the rookie mistake of answering honestly. 

I almost tell her that I honestly don't know, and that I wish I did.  I almost tell her I like my own crew better when they're threatening to kill people than when they're showing mercy, and I don't know what to make of it.  I almost tell her how I've tried, a few times, to pursue some kind of relationship, or even just have a fling, but in the end they were all so sweet, so well-meaning, and so enamoured of some fragment of me they'd decided to perceive that I always ended up feeling alone amid the most intimate moments.

I catch myself in time, though, and instead I meet her piercing gaze with one of my own.  "Be honest, Aria," I say, and I brush her knee with my fingertips as I stand.  "If you ever managed to capture me, you wouldn't know what to do next."

Her eyes flash, and I'm sure the small smirk she affords me by way of response is comparable to the last thing some of her victims have ever seen.  "Challenge accepted, Shepard," she says quietly.


	2. all the world's a stage

When I receive an e-mail from Aria, I'm not really surprised--I know well enough how to play her game.  I'm not surprised, and so it's surprising how strongly seeing such a short, inconsequential message affects me.

 _When I thought to send you this,_ Aria writes, _I realized something.  You never answer your e-mails unless it's with an in-person visit._

That's it.  The challenge is implied.  I have three options, and any one of them will serve as a response, whether intended or not.  I almost laugh and fire off a response without really thinking.

_Says who?_

I realize she may have a point when Traynor notes that I have a message and I go out of my way to check my terminal immediately.  I think I might have actually said _well it can fucking wait_ to Yeoman Chambers a few times.

_I confess I was hoping you'd be true to your reputation, but I suppose that could also end in ignoring me until you get your ass blown up._

I'm feeling...strange.  Flushed.  Like the rush of adrenaline after a really tough fight.  I run my hand through my hair, fire off a response, pace the length of the ship, feeling restless.

_Your vote of confidence is touching.  As is knowing that you'd miss me if I got my ass blown up._

There's a lot to do, and one thing always leads to another, so I don't so much as think of checking my terminal for the next handful of days.  And it's strange how war affects your perception of the passage of time.  A day can feel like a minute and a year all at once. 

The truth is that I don't usually respond to e-mails because I don't know what to say.  I don't see any point in dressing up information in useless pleasantries.  Unless something requires a response, I don't feel any need to give it one, and if it requires a response, usually it requires an in-person visit.

It's the middle of the night-cycle when I check my terminal next.  It's a restless action, borne of yet another night of sleep half-lost to disturbing dreams.  I've got a glass of some weird Omega whiskey in one hand when I lean over the terminal, mindlessly click on the messages, skim over most.  Not unimportant, just not in need of a response.

 _Two replies in as many hours_ , she'd written nearly a week ago.  _Pace yourself, Shepard.  Otherwise I might get the idea you enjoy talking to me._

 _You'll forgive me if my job conflicts with my inane extranet chatter_ , I fire back, but since I can't expect an immediate response, I'm left staring at my empty messages, just as restless as before.

I pace the ship some more, exchange a few words with the night shift, but by that time even the serial insomniacs have nodded off for a few hours.  No Garrus in the battery, no flashing screens pouring from behind Liara's door, even Joker has left the ship to someone else for a few short hours.

I wander back to the starboard observation deck, settle myself in Samara's spot on the floor, and stare out into the abyss until I nod off.

"Shepard?"

Shit.  "Yeah.  Sorry.  What do you need me to do?"

"You were sleeping on the floor," says Ash, equal parts matter-of-fact and a creeping concern that sets me on edge.

"Sorry.  I forgot..."

"You feeling okay, Skipper?"

 _This used to be Samara's room_ , I manage not to tell her.  That was before.  Now Ashley is back.  Different, more distant, but back.  I feel groggy and horrible and...unfocused.  That's a dangerous combination.

"Fine, Ash.  Thanks."

I remember a time when she wouldn't have just quietly stood there and let me walk out like that, and the thought of it stings somewhere in the corners of my eyes.

It's the beginning of the day-cycle now.  The usual crew are shuffling to their posts as the Normandy's lights slowly fade to their usual brightness.  Traynor tells me I have messages and I almost ignore her completely, but this crazy, nagging part of me has to know, has to check.

_E-mail isn't your game, I get it.  The invitation to give into your natural response method stands._

People equate feelings of lust, feelings of giddy anxiety, with being a teenager, but I never really had that experience.  After Mindoir, my life was a lot of bouncing around in foster care and getting shoved in front of cameras until I scrounged together the resources to join the Alliance.  After that, it was a lot of hard work and beating myself into something that resembled a functioning human being.  Lust and giddy anxiety were never really part of that equation for me, and the mixture sits all wrong with me now.

It seems like it ought to be an obvious set-up of some kind, but Aria is smarter and subtler than that.  If you think she's laying a trap and dodge it, you find yourself stepping into the real trap, and she wins, either way.  That's what I always figured, at least.

But then there was Nyreen.  To say she wasn't what I would have expected for an ex-girlfriend of Aria T'Loak was putting it lightly, but then again, Aria both loves and hates being admired, both loves and hates being challenged, and Nyreen managed both.  Still, it seems odd that she'd have a soft spot for martyrdom, and I wonder what that says about her sudden interest in me.

I log out of my terminal and head to my quarters, manage a quick shower before I collapse into the too-large, too-soft bed Cerberus provided.  Maybe, I think before I drift off, Aria was attracted to Nyreen's guilelessness.  I'm playing at whatever this is like it's all a big game, because everything is like some kind of massive, intricate strategy game to Aria.  I'm checking myself at every turn, thinking of the right things to say and do six moves in advance, and what is my aim, exactly?  Just to see if I can best my latest opponent in her own game?

Maybe Aria liked Nyreen because Nyreen wasn't playing.


End file.
